Can't See Myself
by bobosmith01
Summary: When a sudden amount of Danians become unstable, a Danian Mandiblor is forced to rediscover who he really is. Warnings: Blood, gore, torture, and other nasty things.
1. 1: Reveal

Author Notes: Hey guys, Bobo here. First off, before I move on, I just want to say thanks for clicking on this fic. It means a lot. If you'd like to chat, I'm on Tumblr, Skype, and DeviantArt with the same username as I have here!

Second off, pertaining to the fic itself: 

These first few chapters are more of a setup, and have not so much to do with the meat of this story. My writing ability fluctuates.

In addition, there is quite a bit of blood and gore, as well as minor cursing. Anything sexual it at a minimum, unless I say otherwise.

While I personally am not writing this as a ship whatsoever (unless we're talking about friendship), some people may find Sarah's relationship with Wamma to be a little too close. It's not anything physical, I promise, unless we're referring to the Dromes.'

This is a very slight AU. Basically, some Creatures are still alive/still experiencing some things when in this point of the timeline (Some point during Season 3), it would have already been solved. It's very minor, and you should only really catch it if you pay close attention to when certain cards were released. I should also note that parasites work slightly differently-but it's the regular fanon interpretation, so don't worry too much.

* * *

"Yo, MajorT!" The crow-haired human slowly lifted his eyes from his scanner, as he readjusted himself to allow his back to rest on the futuristic chair. He knew had better get relaxed-Tom could hear his overweight Mipedian player friend from a mile away. "Hey, Peyton." Tom replied, with just a hint of flatness, still a little tired. It was still morning when he ported into Chaotic, after all.

Peyton leaned in disturbingly close to his friend's face-Tom could even smell the nachos in Peyton's breath. Raising his arms in sort of an awkward defense, Tom leaned so far back in his chair, his back might as well have broke. "Uh, Peyton, calm down! Did you win a match? Find some great food?" Peyton was visibly shaking and had the grin of a Cheshire cat.

"You know about Danian Parasites, right, dude?" Peyton asked in a fairly overdramatic fashion, which was puzzling. That question possessed an obvious answer. Tom had a few run-ins with Danian assimilation before, one far too first-hand to his liking. The ringing in his head, the movement of what was practically his own skeleton; The OverWorld fan could sympathize the Creature he was playing as in the Drome, Raznus. Tom could only wonder about what Peyton was leading to; knowing Peyton, it was probably about some 'ultra-rare' scan. Tom simply nodded in response.

"They've got 'em." Peyton stated, Tom clearly not catching on. "The Mipedians got a whole code, bro. A whole new way to prevent Parasitic destruction." Tom's left eyebrow arched to all-new heights, arms folded. "You mean a cure?" The archway the placed itself on Tom's brow refused to become any less sturdy as Peyton shook his head. "Not exactly. Word hit the palace that something's going on with Danians, but no one's spilling the juice. But! Iiii was able to do a little bartering. Check this out." Peyton slapped his Scanner on the table, the screen glowing, as if beckoning Tom's glance.

"…It's a plant." Tom stated bluntly, staring at the Scanned card's image. "Like a tomato plant. What's this got to-" Peyton cut Tom off, being dramatic as usual, doing a long "WHRK! SSSSSSSSSsssssssshhhhh. This, my friend, is something my man Sobtjek is experimenting with. He won't tell me about it, but, for sure, bro, this repels Parasites. It's probably got to do with-"

He paused. "Oh, sorry, bro."

Tom sighed, his already dull look evolving into a very depressed bonanza, written all over his face. "It's been 2 days, and I still haven't heard back from either of them. Do you-" Peyton smiled, his infectious attitude relieving Tom's worries. "Don't worry about it, my man. Sar-bear's told me everything's chill with her, and Mister Underworld said the same, right? Just relax." Tom smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Peyton." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his own Scanner, its case a dark blue. "I just wish they'd call us or something."


	2. 2: The Blood-Red Danian

Author Notes:

Warning: GORE AND BLOOD.

A lot longer then the last one. 

* * *

Another match was over. Swirls of code dissipated, as the mechanical buildings hummed and swirled with energy around two Chaotic players. Rothar's intimidating form quickly fell to a scrawny pale boy with pink glasses, his hair as alight as a bonfire, whilst the opposing player's form, Jaal, a purple, twisted looking Danian, fell into a gruff looking, dark-skinned player. His hair was quite unlike his opponent's-short, and clearly bleached, his clothes and general appearance exactly like a gang member. His demeanor was serious, yet still had a very casual feel, though something was certainly off about him-he had an unusual confident aura. Still, it was clear by the look on his face who had won.

Letting out a large breath of air, Kaz slammed his fist in his hand, grinning mischievously. "Now that's what I call being a -good- pain in the neck!" The ginger smiled as he picked up his scanner as the robotic announcer of the Drome spoke. "The winner is KidChaor." Kaz's fingers wrapped around his blood-red scanner, looking back up to his opponent, who was winking at him for some odd reason. In a very suggestive tone, the other Chaotic Player spoke. "Nice moves, KidChaor. I'll see you again, okay~? Rematch we'll have." His voice was guttural, but not at all deep. His voice didn't suit his tone at all, which just added to Kaz's confusion, who replied with a simple "Okay, later." And, without another thought, made his way through one of the exits of the BattleDrome.

Kaz yelped, his glasses almost falling off his face at the demon who was glaring at him when he turned his head after exiting. The sun reflected off the girl's hair, as her bang sputtered into her face, and with a flick of her arm, forced it's way back into a more natural position. Still, her glare remained above all else. Kaz had wondered what in the world he had done-Sarah didn't gaze at anything at else but him. His face was hot from the discomfort he had experienced in these entire few seconds, and he finally sputtered. "Er, uh, Sarah! What's the matter?"

His voice became like a mouse as Sarah took a wide stride towards him, that same unhealthy glare in her eyes. "We're going to the BetaDrome. Now." Kaz could spot every detail of Sarah's face from his current viewpoint. Trying to up his mousey demeanor into more of a tiger, he spoke proudly: "Well, I need a drink first. We can battle-"

"Now."

"Y-Yeah! We can battle now!"

Yep, definitely a mouse again.

Unusually, though, Kaz noted Sarah's emotions. Sarah's range of emotions were generally either A) Very clear or B) Impossible to tell, and Kaz couldn't really decide on which: It wasn't quite anger, and it wasn't quite relief, but, for certain, Sarah was feeling something deep and powerful, despite any efforts to mask it. Odd. Regardless, Kaz had to jog to even keep up with Sarah's long strides, and this reaffirmed his thought that something had happened with Sarah, however minor or major, relevant or irrelevant.

'Sarah..?" Kaz turned his head to get a better glance at her. "Did something…happen?"

The girl gave a heavy sigh in response, tapping her arm impatiently with her opposite hand as she walked. Anxiety? Annoyance? What WAS she feeling? "I need to check out a Scan." Sarah eventually declared with a snap. "Is that good enough of an answer?"

'Wow.' Kaz thought. 'This must be 'cranky tired Sarah'.' Still, the Underworld Player nodded without another word. As much as he disliked it, this was Sarah-there was no use arguing against a brick wall; there didn't seem to be any openings for a mouse to get through, anyways. 'Well, at least this should let me try out some new BattleGear, and see whatever Scan Sarah was talking about in action!'

The two walked into the Betadrome, the sunlight no longer shining down on them now-a mystical turquoise light ominously filling the room in it's stead. A familiar sight, to be sure, but certainly otherworldly. Sarah, having that bizarre look as ever for the past few minutes, waited for the dock to pop out to receive her scanner. Kaz awkwardly readjusted his topcoat, still quite confused at the sudden request, but he snapped out of his trance the moment the machine, silently asking for his scanner to be placed. Placing his scanner in place with one hand, and readjusting his glasses with another, he allowed Sarah to pick out the settings for the match.

Finally, Sarah spoke. "It's an One-on-One friendly match, okay, Kaz?" Her voice even lacked her usual gusto. What in the world was going on? Kaz's lips were pursed, not sure what to say without getting a harsh remark back. Still, like a mouse with cheese nearby, Kaz scurried forth in action, replying with a soft, but firm "That sounds alright to me."

Facing up at the screen, he allowed his fingers to lazily roll over the dials as he thought to himself. 'I have no idea what Sarah's doing…I don't think I have any new Creatures I want to try out right now, so I'll go with my best bet.' Naturally, Kaz refocused his sight, spinning the dial until he landed on a Chaor scan. 'Can't get much better than him. And next…' After dragging the Chaor Scan, the UnderWorld player flipped to a BattleGear. 'The Metabolic Overloader. H'earring said I could use this Battlegear in a pinch, and I've never tried it, so…' He flicked down locations into his spinner with little thinking. He couldn't be bothered to think of a super in-depth strategy for his locations-especially if he wasn't even going to use any but one, if any locations for this match. 'I still don't know what kind of Scan Sarah is referring to, either. Well, in case it's BattleGear: Shock Song for Mugic.' No point in giving Sarah an easy time, testing out a Scan or not.

"All finished?" Sarah asked, quite snappily this time. This further added to Kaz's confusion and worry; Kaz hadn't seen her emotions in such flux like this since…well, just about ever. Still, perhaps the battle would take off the edge, and help him figure out whatever was going on. "Yeah!" He pressed his finger into the button on top of his scanner. There was no mechanical voice in the BetaDrome, only the loud humming which trickled into the boy's ears. His eyes glanced at the screen, and spoke his thoughts aloud. "Wamma?" His voice sounded more like a statement than a question, yet he still had a hint of curiosity. 'So Sarah IS using a BattleGear. If it was a location, then I wouldn't have been able to put any in, and it's certainly not Wamma with his 0 counters.' The prospect of Sarah putting a Mugician's Lyre on the Danian didn't even cross Kaz's mind, however. But why should it? Sarah had plenty of other creatures that actually had Mugicians.

" _Chaor._ " Sarah shot back in a mocking, high-pitched voice, absolutely nothing like Kaz's. It was clear that she wasn't exactly pleased at Kaz's reaction, but her sauciness faded with sadness as she looked away, spinning her Location Randomizer. She wasn't looking at Kaz or the board at all. Uncharacteristic words trickled out of her mouth: "I'm sorry." She seemed genuinely sorry for snapping at him; a rare occurrence.

Kaz had enough of this sinking feeling. "Sarah, please tell me what's going on…" He wasn't the best at confrontational matters, but he had to try. His heart dropped as Sarah closed her eyes.

"Something's wrong with some Danians." The Location had already landed on Mount Pillar, but Kaz paid little attention to that.

"So you mean-" he stopped as Sarah lazily raised her hand, and, with a grim and regretful frown, pressed into Wamma's image. "Wamma attacks Chaor."

Kaz released a gust of air from his chest. He had no idea what was happening, no control. Still, he retaliated by pressing his fingers into Chaor's powerful image.

He could feel raw might coursing through his veins as letters and numbers, Code, enveloped his form, soft twigs for arms replaced by bulging masses of muscle. Deep red skin. Intense blue horns. A wicked, imposing stance. Like magic, the Code seamlessly transformed him into a creature with the form that was Chaor's.

However, this was Kaz, not Chaor. Chaor's normally rough and uninterested expression was notably softer as his currently staring aquamarine eyes pierced into his opponent's. The demon-appearing teen bit his tongue.

Wamma was different. Kaz would have found it hard to describe himself, but the Mandiblor was-not right. The little skin the Maniblor had that was showing was a slightly more dull color. The ant-like Creature had a pained, tired expression on his face, and was kneeling-well, more like bending over; Wamma's limbs didn't exactly allow him to kneel well. "Wamma's sick." Sarah said quietly in Wamma's notably softer voice, as Kaz's heart sunk a little deeper. Obviously, Wamma wasn't having a simple cold, as Sarah wouldn't need to go through a battle. But then-

"Fight with everything you have."

Light filled Kaz's eyes as he quickly crossed his arms in front of his face, almost jabbing himself with Chaor's spiked gauntlets, not expecting the sudden transition into the battle.

There was more to this story Sarah was telling, and he was going to find out.

* * *

Chaor's metal-tipped boots clanked softly. He was spying every corner to find Wamma, his opponent. Right now, he was hidden as best as his large form would allow in a small alcove, his healthy, strong limbs bent to prevent his horns from hitting the ceiling of said alcove. He swore he had heard something in here-Chaor wanted to wreck whatever was nearby-he could handle being struck first if he was able to make ground, but Kaz resisted his temptation, his instincts.

Still, nothing was being gained from hiding in this damp and dinky hole like this. Carefully, Kaz inched his head from the hole…

"Lavalanche."

And recieved a singeing blast right to his left horn. Wonderful. It hurt, too! Pain coursed it's way first to his head, and branched out from there, his Energy dramatically decreasing! Certainly, Wamma was no less powerful because of this sickness. He wasn't sure where Wamma was, but it was too late to hide!

"Already wiped out?! Sludge Gush!" This time, Chaor ducked on instinct, the goop barely missing his head. In fact, he had just barely caught Wamma in sight on a high ledge. 'But that attack…' Either Wamma had more elements than what he remembered, or Sarah was-no, no time to think. A split second later, it was Kaz's turn to fire, literally!

"I'm just getting fired up! Flame Orb!" Kaz fired at the rapidly approaching figure, clashes of flame narrowly missing the Danian. Wait, rapidly approaching? From the sky? 'Since when does Wamma fly? Oh-'

Using a Vine Snaring swing rope, Wamma _planted_ on Chaor, who had decided to run just a second too late. Crushing the Underworlder's legs, the clash of blubbery bug into a massive barbarian hurt on both ends, painful cries releasing from each mouth present on the battlefield. In fact, Chaor felt something wet splatter onto his lower back.

He felt the hum of a Cyclance charging, too familiar for him NOT to recognize. "I've had enough! You said Wamma was sick, but this isn't saying anything!" Doing a roll to his best of an ability, Kaz slapped away the Cyclance; just had enough energy to shoot, just enough of a slap to miss.

Sarah gasped and stumbled off the boy, and Kaz followed up with a punch to the face, standing up imposingly now. He felt the same liquid sputter onto his solid knuckles with the powerful physical strike. He paid no mind to it.

"Now!" Chaor's imposing voice and attitude furthered Kaz's point, something he was secretly grateful for. "Tell me what's going on!"

Wamma stared back. Sarah looked away. They both lowered their head. "The Danian Nobles made a decision."

"-What?" Kaz asked quietly, or at least, as quietly as Chaor's megaphone of vocal cords could allow.

But it wasn't even referring to the question. It's what was in Wamma's mouth. He saw it now. Kaz looked at his knuckles, the liquid from earlier. …He had to narrow his eyes to even see it. It wasn't spit. It was the same color as Chaor's skin. And that same liquid dyed Wamma's mouth.

Sarah remained quiet as Kaz awkwardly looked from his knuckle to Wamma, and back again.

Kaz wanted to deny the conclusion that was flowing into his brain. The UnderWorld player didn't know it was going to get worse. Much worse.

"Spirit Gust."

With a flick of his tail and arms, Kaz flailed his arms to defend from the homing ethereal ghosts charging right into him. It didn't really do much to help matters. Kaz didn't hear Wamma say anything, but another attack was launched, and narrowly missed his right horn. One burning horn was enough, so Kaz was glad for the strangely idiotic misfire. Time for his own attack. This WAS a match, after all. "Ember Swarm!" Rushes of fire bolted from his body, aiming right for the Danian!

And Wamma, big as a target he was, could not possibly dodge in time. However, the one thing Kaz didn't expect was the Danian to go FLYING backwards, right into the same alcove he was in just a minute ago. Sure, EmberSwarm was stro-

"Oh my god."

If there was one thing Kaz didn't expect to see, it was this much blood. The trail of this liquid stretched from where Wamma was standing, all the way to the alcove. His eyes widened. This shouldn't be happening. This _couldn't_ be happening! Not here! Gore never happened in the Battledromes! A small cut? Maybe, but this was ridiculous-an Ember Swarm couldn't cause this, and the Dromes hardly ever let blood spill out-they would just decrease the energy proportionally!

He ran as fast as he could back to the alcove, the earthy walls dyed a sickly red. The blubbery mass was covered in this liquid substance, dripping from its mouth and eyes. The UnderWorlder shivered. Was this what was happening? "Sarah!" In Chaor's deep, gruff voice, he rushed over to the player with the Mandiblor's form, his hard knuckles grasping deeply into the unusually soft exoskeleton. "Sarah, what's going on with Wamma? What's going to happen? Sarah! Sarah?!" Carefully lifting up the Mandiblor's head, Kaz gasped.

If he didn't have Chaor's Courage and Energy at the moment, he would have fainted. He didn't even have to try to pretend he wouldn't; he most certainly would have. The emotion Sarah was truly feeling was clear. The Mandiblor staring back at him had an unbelievable amount of fear in his eyes, stained with tears. Not even a Decomposition mugic could cause what was happening. As he threw up another round of blood, Wamma's voice weakly spoke up. "They're going to finish him off, Kaz. He's going to die."

Kaz dropped Wamma in shock.

The blood-red Danian exploded into Code.


	3. 3: Fateful Fall, Regrets of Benediction

Author Notes: We go to Perim. 

Feel free to ask questions on my Tumblr, here, etc! See last chapter for contact details.

* * *

"-U.L.K., still following target. Presumably 45 beltas from Mipedim. The decrease of hiding spots has interfered. Don't worry, shouldn't be a problem." I close the communicator, not waiting for a response to be heard through the speakers. It was not in my allowance or interest to compromise the mission, after all. My toes are steadied carefully in the hot sand. I had to be as quiet as possible, naturally. I couldn't fail. As a Mandiblor, you are already the lowest of the low. It is your duty to obey your orders, and to not mess it all up.

Duties are duties, absolutely stupid or not. I still did not understand why Lore would want me to fetch a common Mipedian Mugic-I'm positive we had one or two in reserve for study, and, whether I was perfection in stealth or not, it was a risky move. Stealth requires cover. There is very little of that in the wide-open desert. Still, I *had* been absolutely itching to get back into action, so there was no reason to refuse a good challenge to warm my limbs up. Not that I could refuse in the first place.

Many of the Nobles aren't exactly fond of me, you see. Say I'm too confident, too arrogant in my abilities. Considering how I'm still following all procedures without cutting any corners, they can speak for themselves. It's not "ignorance" in my tone, it's the truth. In fact, many soldiers possessing any rank whatsoever enjoy my company.

Besides, do I truly come across as ignorant? I'm as much a Danian as they are, so why they're so peculiar around me, I'll never understand. "Nobles are Nobles, great as they are." That's what one of my Platoon members told me. Perhaps he's right, or perhaps it's because of the brainwashing he went through. Oh, right. I forgot to mention one of our previously infamous Infected Creature is in our Platoon: Nunk'worn. I don't even want to talk about him too much. You've probably heard the nasty rumors about him already, so I'll spare you the details. He's surprisingly mellow with a parasite deeply ingrained within his skull, but nevertheless a good fighter. All Mandiblors, including me, admittedly, aren't happy with his presence, though at least I have the grace not to whisper behind his back.

I instead opt to not talk to him at all. The Infectee has few conversation topics, and talking about their past life isn't exactly-wanted.

Doesn't stop the Nobles. Heh.

I _really_ shouldn't talk about the Nobles like this. I'm not on great terms with any of them, but it's mainly our Noble Platoon Leader(s) who are a pain in my arms, not the entirety of the nobles as a whole. As much as I would want to get a good punch in for Ekuud's face, I still respect the Nobles and their fellow brethren like I am meant to-I won't harm an ally. In particular, the Queen, Ilexxia, Lore, and the Hivebringer, Ramarhvir, come to mind. I would die for them without question, and I know I wouldn't let anyone else die if I could help it, either. I trust me saying so convinces you I only dislike some, not all, nobles.

My eyes narrow as I spot the cloaked, rainbow-braided Creature stopping dead in her tracks in the sand, her shadow following suit in front of her. My body is already leaning over, prowling, all prepared to slice my victim's neck if called for. My instincts told me to do something, hit them with a Thunder Shout, a Pebblestorm, or just strangle them already-I had every opportunity, but I chose not to. I've already told you-it was my duty to obey orders, and not mess it all up. Besides it having the need for it to be a snipe of an attack(which, to be fair, I could do easily), that wasn't my goal.

"Retrieve Wistanne's Mugic undetected, and Flux back to Mount Pillar. Using force is an absolute last resort. Do not kill her or get caught under any circumstance." I could recall Lore's words clearly as my jaw moved, just barely enough to mouth his words to myself in remembrance.

Lore. Possibly, no, _definitely_ the most famous Danian Muge. He's wise, bold, intellectual... _fascinating_. Yes, fascinating is the best word to describe him.

I notice the reason the Creature had stopped now-her neck twitching back and forth. My brain clicks-she was looking around. She was slightly, perhaps even unconsciously, moving her head, and thus, her neck, as a result. She looked down. Her arms were directed in front of herself-was she holding something? I took another careful pace, inching closer and closer, my body in full control, my mind drifting back to Lore.

Despite his renownedness, he hardly ever goes out of his study. He's always cooped up in there, yet he manages nearly all of the Mugical matters of the Hive in a reformed, if harsh, political manner. It's possible that every Danian has complete devotion towards him; He is the one to find the Cothica and bring the Hive to glory, and peace to Perim.

I was almost within arm's reach now. Huh. She's looking at a scroll. Why? I can't read the content of it whatsoever-the writing was either ridiculously sloppy, or written in some sort of code. Was that-a painting? It was a splotch of green with vague red symbols dotting the perimeter-no, wait, those were Mugic symbols. Was the Mipedian following this map? Interesting. For a split moment, I wonder if I was even following the right Creature.

 **"You know what Wistanne looks like, right, Mandiblor!? Yellow scales, weird patterns, long red hair, flat chest?"**

Right, Odu Bathax was also there for my mission briefing. He might as well told all of Mount Pillar what I had to do with his booming, screeching voice. Any frustration I had quickly melted away, however: despite rumors, he acts decent enough, at least towards me. He's a well-known Warrior, an unparalleled soldier and defender, and now he might as well be a commander after his duties of defending the North Gate. Apparently, he's quite arrogant, according to some of my fellow Mandiblors, but in the times I have worked with him, he seemed very ideal, a role model. Brotherly, even. He just did what was best for the Hive. I can respect that, despite us lacking in the similarity departments.

This, however, was most certainly Wistanne-she fit the description perfectly. Just as Lore predicted, there was a pouch at her side, woven in some straw-like substance. Similarly, I have my own pouch at my side, softly thrown into my front due to the wind that had started blowing-a persistent weak breeze.

First, I had to undo the string. Carefully, my fingers loop inside the weaved trail surrounding the Mipedian's bag. I give it a gentle tug, making sure it moved at an underwater slug's pace. My claws almost click as my dexterous limbs massage the string, making the bag open wider and wider. I could see a glint of something yellow-Mipedian Mugic, no doubt. Slipping my upper left hand out of the strings, I reached for the Mugic.

My breath got caught in my throat. Wistanne slowly turned around, a complete 180. Quickly, focusing myself, I bent down as low as possible, activating my inner self-those Humans, they call it my "ability". I could only wait for her reaction to see whether it had worked or not. In a sort of pseudo stare-off, I could witness her full profile. I could see her in full: a very large and unusual yellow snout, attached to a thin body adorned in strange purple glyphs. What seemed to be horrendously bright red armor decorated her torso, as well as a golden necklace resting on her-indeed-rather flat chest. A small part of me wondered why she was decorated in such a way, another small part knowing exactly why, and all the other parts telling me to keep quiet and still.

The question of whether my ability worked or not hung close to the strings of fate. However, it seemed my skill and luck preceded me, as she simply took a glance at her map, and began to carefully dig something out the pouch.

Wait a minute. That was the pouch of Mugic. She didn't seem to notice it was more open than the last time; yet, what could she need in there other then-

" _Song of Translocation_!" Her voice, a thin but sticky spider's web, rang true. This was a problem, I decided, as her Mugician resonated with each blast of the composition. Damn! If I stayed a second longer, I would be caught in the Translocation Mugic, and that would put everything in jeopardy! But I was so close...!

With a reluctant vigor, I hopped back as far as I could, just in the nick of time. The light enveloped the Mipedian Muge, her body fading away, my goal so close yet so far away!

My blood fumed and I cursed to myself. What was I supposed to do now? I failed to get Wistanne's Mugic Pouch, and, to rub salt in the wound, I didn't even have a remote idea of what she had, other then some Translocation mugic!

"Lore's not going to be happy." I mutter, tapping one clawed finger on my snout. Not much I could do about that. The wind breezed across my scales and exoskeleton, as if nothing had happened, nothing to quench my anger. Deciding I could wait a minute or two for the inevitable call I had to make before Fluxing back, I paced over in the direction where the female was-one part of me focused, another bizarrely relaxed.

Until I began falling.

So much for getting my mind off of this.

* * *

If you were to ask me right now what was happening, I'd say this was all some humongous mistake. My body was tumbling in the air, free falling, yet the air felt like some sort of syrup; it felt like an eternity to get down wherever I was going to fall. Sand quickly fell into mud, and, however brief, rocks were placed into drier earth as Overworld desert transformed into Underworld dirt.

The sand below the area Wistanne stood collapsed, and now I'm here. Everything happened in an instant, and I believe anyone would have trouble describing it. I fired an attack-Vine Snare, I believe, and somehow gripped into the jutting rocks. The vine quickly snapped, though, but I was able to reduce the impact of the fall just enough so I wouldn't break any bones.

The material of the walls and floor is some gritty and damp mixture, a greenish brown. The place has a peculiar smell-seems like it goes in deep, too. Another thing that's obvious was that it was dark-near pitch black, except the small light filtering through the hole above. I couldn't see any growth, either.

"I fell straight down." I muse aloud, taking in my surroundings. The hole above me, sand somehow not pouring in, was about 20 child paces long. How did Wistanne not fall into this place? Is this a trap? Everything is unclear to me. Cautiously, I breathed a little deeper, attempting to see if this was some sort of poison, my claws ready to activate the Flux Bauble, just in case.

Hm. It seems fine enough, but one can never be too careful in situations like these. I remove my head covering, allowing it to drape over my nostrils. If there was some sort of material in the air, this might help me not breathe in as much. I might as well go in a little deeper. If I did uncover something, it would be a waste to not investigate it before the Mipedians filled the place. Carefully stepping forth in adagio, I began walking deeper into the cavern, a gentle slope leading me deeper and deeper, darker and darker.

It was a silent walk, nothing happening in the slightest, but it didn't bother me one bit. After all, the daily regimen of a Mandiblor includes: A) Walking around and B) Repairing a perfectly fine rock wall. Tedious tasks? They were no problem for me, regardless of what I preferred.

...The silence was more unnerving than boring, anyways. It kept my focus in check.

* * *

...

My foot brushes something.

I look down.

A-plant of some sort?

I take a good large step back; a plant down here? Not exactly a normal sight-not that I could see much anyways.

Focusing myself, I do my best to light some sort of Fire Attack in my hands. I was never good at them, and it showed. The only thing that did light was a few sparks-not what I wanted at all, but I was able to get a comparatively alright view. It was-a miniscule plant with green and purple-berries? And a surprisingly rigid stalk, despite its lack of width. No sharp edges... And the quantity of moving parts? 0. It was perfectly safe to physically handle, it seemed. Unless there was going to be some sort of rash I didn't know about, I could pick this up with my bare hands.

Interesting.

I continue walking.

...

I had only been walking for a minute, but I rigidly stopped. The ground was damper then normal. On command, sparks flew out of my hand, fizzling out like my lack of Fire Elemental power, but I was able to see what I needed.

For who knows what reason, this humongous beetle-brown cave was infested with these plants, and there's a huge pool of mucky water in front of me. Waves of green plants littered the walls, sticking out like thorns on a strangling rose bush. The room feels so-spacious, I can hardly believe I was in the same tunnel. This was seemingly the end, at least, as I didn't spot any other path in the brief second I had.

This was-interesting. Interesting enough to report. My head had cooled off, and there was no reason for me to wait. I slip my fingers into my bag, not even glancing down to see what was in it. I flicked the Communication Crystal, screen attempting to form an image. The lack of light produced only colors and vague shapes only, but it seems Lore had been waiting for me.

"S.K.U.L.K. here."

"I had been waiting. Skulk, is your communicator broken? I'm not getting an image. What is your Location?" I heard the resonating voice through the Communicator. That succinct but empty voice, yes, it could only belong to Lore.

"Communicator is fine, sir. Location unidentified."

"You'll have to explain, then. Can you not use your Flux Bauble?"

"I haven't tried, sir. However, I have something else to report.

I failed in getting the Mugic, b-"

"What?! Skulk, this is critical! Did you get caught? You've Disarmed others will enough before! Explain yourself!"

'Lovely.' I thought to myself. 'Just lovely.'

"I did not get caught, your-"

"Good. Good."

Now that I think about it, since when have I had a mission in Disarming specifically? I knew I was proficient at stealth, but that was most often used for assassination missions. Since when had-

"Skulk! Continue!"

"Yessir. I was close to the target, about to snatch her bag, but she stopped and casted a Mugic within, the Song of Translocation." I'm almost surprised I didn't stutter.

"Of course she did." I heard Lore mutter. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or not.

"A few seconds after she casted the Song of Translocation, the ground collapsed into this tunnel."

"Continue."

And so I did. Lore listened silently as I explained my location. I told him about the long tunnel, the sub-par temperatures, the dark area, the strange plants, and the huge lake in front of me.

"You're too far from our Location to dispatch backups, and, hm." Lore seemed to be in deep consideration about something, if his voice was any indication. I wonder what the next move would be. I also wonder if Odu-Bathax was in the room, since he was supposed to be the true commander of this mission, but I decide it would be best not to bring that up.

"Collect some samples of the location."

What?

"Your pouch is divided into multiple sections, correct? And you have a canteen of reservoir water. Drink up the water, and fill it with the cave's. Collect some of those plants-Do not!-pull out the stalk, do it by the root, and collect a sample some of the cave's dirt."

"Understood."

"I will discuss repercussions later, _Mandiblor_. You've really done it this time. Flux back."

"I'll do better next time." And I meant it, too. This-hurt. I wouldn't let it show, but I failed. I failed in a very important mission. Cothica, how important was this Mugic? Wasn't it supposed to be common?

"L.O.R.E. out."

Colors faded from my communicator, leaving an empty room and an empty heart.

I had done something wrong before, hm? My heart really was empty, then.


	4. 4 Part 1: Liar

**Author's Note** : Rushed ending. My apologies, I just wanted to churn this out. If you want, decide in the comment/review section if I should focus more on quality vs. time? IDK.

Also, I split this up into 2 chapters because it was getting loooong.

* * *

 _I_ was being whipped. I don't remember for how long. My burning body had shed over and over. An endless cycle of bruises and lashes, head occasionally being crushed and pounded from the inside out. Sometimes, I had to drink poison. My flesh melted away, and so came bones, which collapse on the floor. In that fading dream, I was dead. Sometimes, people died with me. Sometimes, I was someone else. "Who am I?" I would ask. The answer never came. No Hive Alert worked. My vocal cords had melted into a puddle of thick ooze within my bony throat, leaving me speechless. _Who am I?_

Who am I? I can't see myself.

When I wake up, the answer is always clear. But within my fading dream, the one who is me is dead.

Who am I? I am Skulk, Danian Mandiblor. Born into low class, will always be in low class. Fine by me. I've been recognized enough-I would receive missions no other Danian would take due to my body type and skills.

Sound far-fetched? Well, it is. But most Danians aren't known for flexibility and acrobatics. I'm not like most Danians. My exoskeleton is weak but light, rough and jagged in only some places. I only have to walk on two legs, and my earth-colored body often allows me to blend to the environment. Because of this, I'm often someone who gets put on intruder watch, or repair the tighter areas of the Pillar's walls. Sometimes, either with myself or a few other Danians, we're put on an ambush mission. I don't really remember how many times I've killed a Creature, not any more. Not much, I'm sure, mind you-I'm not exactly itching for a bloodfest. But there is a certain satisfaction in fulfilling a mission, even if my heart twinges with each final breath of my victims.

Creatures don't seem to like to talk about themselves. No charm or charisma. Many friendships at the Danian Hive seem-forced. But we are all connected by brotherhood, either way. Just the thought of not having a home at the Hive-it sends shivers down my spine. "The Hive is the most important thing to you." I forget who taught me those words, but they're most certainly true.

* * *

My yellow-filtered and red eyes flutter open. I press myself up, my claws fixating into their usual indent of my clay bed. 'Home', I thought. 'Not a nightmare.' Absentmindedly, I fling my legs over to the side of my bed, getting ready to stand up with a flick of my-

"Mallash, sir."

My voice dribbles out of my mouth by instinct as I'm greeted with an unimpressed expression.

Why in Perim was one of the Battlemasters here? Don't tell me I overslept.

"Lore wants you in his study before training, _Sk_ ulk." The brown Danian states, shoulder pincers twitching. His arms were tense yet relaxed, rigid like poles, but down at his side.

"Alright. I'll be there shortly."

" _You_ 're coming with me." Mallash retaliates sharply.

"Right..."

Was he slurring his words? Not really, but I kept noticing some sort of tick. Something that had him confused or apprehensive, like he almost messed up on something.

Well, nervousness or anger wasn't anything new. I blame my sleeping partner, really. The amount of guards this sleeping shift is apparently more than most because of him. Besides, I had just woken up, even if I do tend to get up and moving quickly. Maybe I had just misheard him.

My sleeping mate was still asleep, from the looks, so I didn't bring him up. Nothing to worry about with him anymore, anyways. Standing up, I stand side by side with Mallash as we exit the tent, softer clay becoming harder stone, a familiar sensation.

A slow paced walk, we nodded to the many Danians we passed, some giving us odd looks or-was that a smirk? I cross my arms, biting my tongue for now. Had I really gotten in trouble? Perhaps that what it looks liked, maybe. I could only wonder as Mallash and I marched, little by little, closer and closer to Lore's study.

Enclosed in a tower near the Gates, he and only the the most select Danians entered on a daily basis-if you needed anything, you would often just wait outside. If I recall, it's actually composed of three levels-Lore's study being the top, a library being the middle, and the Hivebringer's study being the base. Etched with glowing Mugic symbols, it was said to be the home of first Danian Queen's consort.

Never sure what to make of that, considering this definitely wasn't the Location of the original Hive, but either way, it meant little to me overall. Sure did look nice, though.

Pushing off my unsure and casual thoughts, I walk up the tower's bulky stairs, an encirclement of the sturdiest stone. A little pitter and patter, a large stomp, stamp, stump, and stimp-the echoes of our movement filling the air. With rhythm, our song carries us to the conclusion-an already open door, Lore sitting down in a chair in his study.

" **Come in**."

A grizzled but experienced voice demands us to enter, a voice emerging from Lore's mouth. Without question, Mallash and I stride into the building, the door closing behind us.

Lore's study... I had been in here before, and it looks just as tidy. Cabinets lines the main walls, a multitude of preserved reports, and led into a much more open area, with raised and shaved boulders, fashioned into chairs, surrounding an empty pool for crafting Mugic. Odd, foreign fabrics dotted the library ceiling, mixtures of grey, yellow, green... Mostly yellow. I had never seen this fabric mass-produced before, but I knew that at least half of these were Mipedians. Did they come from a raid on a Mipedian merchant?

Lore's desk was neat, but it was still adorned with a multitude of books, scrolls, and reports. In fact-my eyes noticed a striking material on the desk. A black cover? Yes, that was it. I could only see the shape of a large book underneath it, but the material made me look like I was looking into a void of despair-a pool of infinite black, and impossible to see through.

Odd. I'd never seen anything like that before in the Hive. I wondered what he could be hiding-in fact, my gut was telling me to rip off that cloth right now and read what was underneath.

Why was I thinking so peculiarly? It was none of my business.

"Thank you for your swift movement, Danians. Take a seat over here."

After a wordless bow, Mallash and I pass by Lore to the much more open lounge, which the Muge had motioned towards. We stand in front of the Mugic pool, wordless. Lore stayed behind us. He doesn't want his back turned on his work when others are in reach, or so I presume.

Lore soon follows our lead, but stops at one of his cabinets, dancing his fingers around the handle, opening it with grace. He brings out a-

Was that OverWorld alcohol? It looked like the same type of bottle. With a set of 2 small glasses, too. I am _very_ confused. Judging from his bulging eyes, I judge that Mallash is, as well.

Lore, however, was unfazed. As if he was some sort of servant, he brings over a polished plate, the wine and glasses on it, and sets it down in the air above the pool, the plate levitating, a small hum surrounding it. Mugic must be holding it up. Lore knew exactly what he was doing. "Ask questions already. It's clear you want to." Lore fiddles one hand around another, while another pair of arms crosses in expectation.

Instead of following his commands, both Mallash and myself give a slightly nervous glance at one another, lost in thoughts. I thought I knew why I was called, but it certainly wasn't for this. Had I been fou-

"Lore, tell us why you called us here." Mallash broke the silence, thank the Cothica. His pincers twitch with worry.

"Hm." Lore turns his gaze to me, a piercing gaze that I can only describe as a whirlpool.

"This has to do with your previous mission, Skulk. The one from 2 weeks ago."

Possibly the most intense whirlpool that's ever existed.

"Yessir."

The whirlpool beckons me in deeper: had I been discovered?!

I-I need to calm down. Why does it feel like my heart is bursting? For a second, my body feels like it's on fire. It's like my skin is melting. My face is tight, unmoving. I'm being chained, and I'm going to-

However, instead, nothing is happening. I-hadn't felt that level of panic in such a long time. What was happening to me just then?

Mallash and Lore have been talking. I must have been off in my own world for a few seconds. I take in a deep breath, reasserting myself, listening in.

"So Skulk found a collection of these plants?"

"That's correct."

My mission, of course.

"Will you tell us about them?" I interrupt, Mallash, but not Lore, turning to look me in the eyes.

There's a small silence.

The room feels tense, and I can't help but feel paranoid. Why did I feel so hot? I-I can't-

"I'll tell you what I'm able to." Lore eventually states, staring into an apparently interesting bookshelf.

...

"I can't find any Danian records on them. But, it seems to be some sort of derivative of past Mipedian flowers. The roots and beginning of the stalk seem to match quite well." He begins, straightening his posture, but staring between us now-not looking either of us in the eyes.

"They seem to get their energy from something other then the sunlight-it must be something to do with particular or soil. I can not tell you why.

The only true resource I think we could use from this is perhaps some sort of construction material, if we can find a-suitable maintenance. Otherwise, the only thing else is the berries-which is why you two are here.

The berries seem to be perfectly fine. I haven't tasted them myself, but I tested them on quite a few parasites-they seem to be quite happy after drinking. If anything, it seems to be very nutritional. Quite juicy, in fact; One berry can fill a shot glass. My point: I made a drink from it, and I want you two to drink it."

Another perverse silence. The musty air in the room seems a lot more interesting at this moment to everyone. A small torch's light flickered. I noticed the faint outline around the middle bookshelf. Would that be connected to the "dead end indent" in the library below? If so, that was classic. ...I felt like escaping right now, honestly. No, that's-Focus, Skulk. You're better than this.

"That's it?" Mallash eventually expressed, an edge of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes," Lore spoke, gracefully, and softly. "And I want you to faush together on this."

Mallash looks like he had just thrown up. The most ugly expression I had ever seen a Danian behold was on his face, a fiery blaze lit in his eyes. His snout was snarled, his brow-line was tight, and his claws would have been pierced into his own skin if he didn't have his hard outer-covering judging by how hard he was clenching his fists.

"I REFUSE. I REFUSE TO FAUSH WITH THAT-THING!"

I groan internally, a rumble shaking my throat. What insufferable hubris.

Faushing is a term that apparently other tribes don't use, whatever the reason may be. To be fair, it's odd to hear, even for me.

If you faush with someone, the other brother-in-arms will be willing to be sacrificed for you, and vice versa. It's bestowing your life to the other person for honor. You will do the same thing as them, anything to help.

The term is also used for-guinea pigs who are going through the same treatment, ready to feel the pain they're feeling... It's more of a formal thing.

Good to know I'm moving up in life, my new rank being "guinea pig."

"I'll only faush with someone I can respect." I mutter, words like sweet poison dripping out of mouth.

"You! Shut your mouth! You're as Danian-"

"What? Because of how I look or act?! _H_ ow many times do I have to say I'm just as much of a Danian? Stop!"

My head hurts. I feel like I'm overreacting again. There's nothing to be scared of, only frustration, but I'm breathing really hard. I-I should know how to control my nerves better than this. But I'm sweating, my body feels cold, a-and...I'm-

"Quiet, both of you!"

My mind draws a blank as we both turn back to Lore, who shuts down our argument with his firm voice. His golden eyes leer into us, pincers oddly still as he speaks again. "If you will not faush with each other, leave. I have no time for this."

My eyes squint as I reassert myself. Hm...

Lore was-on edge. His voice was a lot more serious than before, perhaps even more serious then telling us to be quiet. His claws were fiddling nervously with his cloak, and the glow in his eyes were brighter than normal.

'That's right.' I thought. 'Lore is busy with something.'

You see, just a few days ago, I took a sneak peek at the rotation times listed in the barracks. Something many Danians noticed is that, in a sixth of a solan, there's an odd gap in time in the Queen's Chamber guard, with a scribble next to it saying "No questions. I'm busy. - Lore" ...Calling us here didn't have anything to do with that, did it? No, it couldn't have been, but whatever was going on, it must be stressing Lore out.

Lore... What are you hiding?

Ugh, why did I care? What's wrong with me? I had already decided what I would do.

"I'll faush," I said, after working up my nerves. "But not for Mallash. I will faush for you, High Muge Lore."

"Hmph." Lore found the floating plate with the liquid extremely open to observation. But he smiles, or perhaps smirks. Lore's far too hard for me to read. And after a brief pause, he looks to Mallash, who nods, despite his rather unkindly face.

"I feel the same way, sir. I will do the experiment, if only for you." Mallash quickly jumps in with his excuse, as he always did. Honestly, the way Mallash wormed his way out with excuses reminded me more of a Mipedian Noble then a Danian Battlemaster.

And Lore...? What did he think?

With a tense pause, Lore nods, accepting our proposition. "Begin the Faush over the Mugician's pool."

As if sensing our desire, a crackling golden flame creeps up from the depths of the Mugic pool. It held no warmth, only a blistering sense of emotion in which I cannot describe further. I'd never seen anything like it-even Mallash looks absolutely mystified.

After a select silent second, Mallash waddles sideways across from me, and after a small pause, reached a set of hands over the small hole, waiting for mine to embrace his own. My fingers twitch, but soon, I too do the same thing, my clawed digits wrapping around his rough, leathery knuckles.

My mind feels thin. Lore is staring. The fire is crackling. It was as if time itself stood still. Waiting. Waiting for us to move. We know what to do. We close our eyes, the fire pulsing at each of our words.

" ** _My fellow Danian, I will faush with you, mind, body, and soul. May we feel the same power and regrets, and may our union be as strong as the Hive itself. My life is in your hands_**."

We stay in our position, hands clasped firmly together, our eyes firmly shut. I'm almost certain nothing is actually happening, but it feels as if I am praying, praying on the middle of a ravaging battlefield. Winds are howling. I'm being tossed through air, plummeting into the earth, but Mallash and I are still connected. Faush. The union of trust.

The crackling stops, and both me and Mallash fluttering our eyes open. This world is exactly the same as the one we had left, but it certainly doesn't feel that way. It's another long pause. We stare. We stare at one another for a long time. I can see every contour of his maw, and how rushed his green whiskers were groomed. I can see his dandelion eyes, and the pattern, no, the _words_ of the fabric, snug tightly around his horns. "Undefeated."

We blink.

A plate-that same silver plate-with two full glasses of a dark red liquid sits directly in front of us now. We lower our arms, our eyes not wandering. We follow the instructions of the next thing we hear: "Drink the liquid in the glass."

No questions needed now, we begin at the same time, wrapping our fingers around the cup. I can see a distorted reflection of myself. We raise it and open our maws. I brace myself for a familiar taste.

Sweet, sweet juice blasts down my throat. Ah, this really was the good stuff. While it begins somewhat bitter, it quickly turns into a sweet, delectable drink, cool and easy to drink. A refreshing, airy aftertaste. This is what I remember. I set the glass back down on the plate, sealing my mouth shut. My mouth felt like it was sealed with a coated poison.

* * *

In the end, Lore asked a few simple questions, after we remained in the room for 3 hours: What did it taste like? How did you feel after drinking it? Do you feel bloated? Each question was answered truthfully: Bittersweet, just fine, and a hearty no. Lore was satisfied-he proclaimed he would do a few more tests, and to report back to him the moment anything felt strange, asked if we were curious about anything (I kept my mouth shut) and then we were dismissed.

So, for what certainly wasn't, but certainly felt as if it were-I lied for the first time in the time life. I lied to myself. I lied to the High Muge.

No wonder I felt so anxious. Because I had already known what Lore was talking about.

I never gave him all of the berries. I never gave him the full pouch he asked for.

I knew how exotic they were. I had tasted them already. I decided to grow them.

I had already been growing the berries already and selling them on the Mandiblor's market.

* * *

 **AN** : Like I said, rushed ending. I'll write it out if people want me to? I know this is rather unprofessional, but I'm not feeling professional, least not with school.

Remember, this is two parts, so next section will still be about Skulkie here.

Next actual chapter, we go check in on Sar-Bear. Or, rewind? Fast Foward? That's for me to know, and you to figure out.

Perceptive readers will have many ideas.


End file.
